A Melancholy Note
by Mr. Robinson
Summary: There's pain in sorrow, and Carrie tries to understand it.


Carrie often listened to music when she wasn't watching her horror movies. She enjoyed how each instrument had a different vibration, but somehow came together.

The clank and pop of the drums were the easiest for her to distinguish, mainly because it was a sound she could make on occasion, when she teleported long distances. Then there were the soft whispers of the piano, the guitar, constantly pounding chords, and probably Carrie's favorite, the singer.

The singer could sound loud, pretty, resonant, or nasally, and whoever it was always put a unique touch to the song, like they made the music a part of themselves. Carrie wondered what type of voice she would have had if she was born alive.

Sometimes, when she was alone, she would try to find out whether she could sing. Usually, it was just as useless as practicing a piano. Whenever she tried to press a note, her hands would fly through the wood.

One time, she remembered when she had accidentally possessed the "A4" key.

That was one of the two times she remembered when she had created music by herself.

The second time she was sure she had made a tone was during school.

That was when one of the student's brought over his cousin's electric guitar. She heard Gumball fumble out a string of notes, and it sounded almost like the music she listened to at home, except this guitar was more... real. There was an authentic vibration in the air, and Carrie could feel it.

She hummed a note.

Did she? Or was it someone else?

She was sure it was herself. It sounded just like her talking voice, only it was somewhat different. It fit with the music somehow, as if it was helping it.

She tried to hum another note, remembering how it felt the first time.

But this time, it was back to Carrie's original way of talking.

She tried again.

After another similar result, it wasn't clear how it happened. But she knew that it did happen, if just for a small, quiet moment.

She tried singing to herself a few times since, but it always sounded like rustling wind or an echo of another blurry echo.

So all ambitions slowly died by the time Carrie turned twelve. Or rather, by the time Carrie had finished her twelfth year on the earth.

It was awkward when the school bulletins announced her "birthday". On better days, no one brought it up or pretended to notice.

Sometimes, a student would walk up to Carrie, smiling, maybe with a gift, only to remember that for her, this was a reminder that she had been miscarried that day many years ago.

* * *

Sometimes, she went to the school practice rooms to hear some students occasionally run through a few scales every now and then. She wondered if she would practice instruments "every now and then" if she had been born alive.

Her mom had told her that people used vocal chords to sing, and also to talk. Or maybe her mother hadn't told her that. Maybe she was just making that part up. Either way, she wished that her mother had told her something like that.

It would have had to be early on in Carrie's life, since her mom died in labor, and later went to join the immortals when she was just old enough to attend Elmore High's kindergarten program.

So as she listened to music everyday, she sometimes imagined her mom singing with the other musicians.

When she was just a very young ghost, her mom had whispered, almost sang to her. It was like a cheerful voice, only with the whispers and deep breaths a ghost makes involuntarily.

Her mom laughed when Carrie first learned how to float, by herself, without needing to be possessed.

Carrie, of course, didn't remember any of this, but her grandmother did. She gave Carrie some photos of her mother, and one or two of her father.

When Carrie first got the pictures, she wondered what she herself would look like alive. Her mom looked pretty, and her dad seemed decent.

She would have hung the photos up on her bedroom wall, but that made her think about things she didn't want to think about. So she put the pictures in a chest, underneath her bed.

When Carrie remembered the pictures, she wished that she could have said something that would have convinced her mom to stay.

It felt like her mom had forgotten her.

But it wasn't her mom's fault, it was her own fault for not being with her mom enough, or not saying the right words, or maybe being too depressed. She didn't know.

And she didn't know how to stop being so depressed. She wanted to be happy, but ghosts don't have much of a sense of humor. They sometimes get a couple of laughs when people are scared, and not much else.

Would her mom have stayed if she scared people?

* * *

On a rainy Saturday, Carrie went to the cemetary. She looked around at all the stones. Some of them had grown rusty and illegible from over fifty years of weather. Others lay forgotten, covered by grass.

She flew over to the spot.

There were a few names around the "KR" section. Only two of them related to her.

Carrie was actually not shocked the first time she saw her name on a gravestone. It felt natural and cold.

She brushed aside the leaves that had collected around the stones.

Then she moaned.

Ghosts cannot cry.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to say that she was sorry for the miscarriage in her tears. She wanted to tell her mom that everything would be okay if she came back. She wanted her mom to be okay. She wanted something that could never happen, and would never happen.

But she still needed it.

She needed her mom to say "I love you".

She needed a friend.

But she didn't have any.

* * *

"Oh, come on!"

That was the first thing that startled Carrie. She thought she was all alone, hidden from the world.

"Um..." she said, looking around.

And she saw Florence, bathing in the cool, soft dirt of the cemetery.

"I help you out with your math homework, and I'm still not your friend?" he asked.

"Was I talking out loud?" Carrie stuttered, not sure what to say.

Well, Florence knew just what to say.

"I guess you want some privacy." And he began to walked off.

"Wait," Carrie asked. She couldn't handle an enemy. She would force herself to join the immortals for sure.

"I need a friend."

Florence turned around.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to understand the pain Carrie was going through. He didn't really know what to say, and in fact, he probably would have just botched things up if he did say anything else.

So he looked at the gravestone.

Then back to Carrie. She was staring intently at the stone, as if she had some magic power and it was activated by staring.

The rain slowed down as the storm moved in a different direction. After about five minutes of sun, Carrie turned around.

"Thanks," she said.

Florence didn't really understand everything going on, but for that moment, everything was okay.

"Want help this Friday?" he asked.

"Sure." And the two parted ways.

Maybe they would meet again in the cemetery.

* * *

**Author's note:** Thanks for reading! This is the first time I wrote something around this genre, so feel free to tell me if I got it wrong or right. Have a good day.


End file.
